Terms of a Contract
by blood and rain
Summary: Ciel has taken revenge and Sebastian has fulfilled his end of the bargain. But the young master has his reservations about giving his soul away. So what will Sebastian do to ultimately take the young Earl's mind, body and soul? eventual sebastian/ciel
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own, nor am I making profit from this entire fic.

**AN:** Lets see… just wanted to say that whilst its my first time posting here, Its not my first story, or even my first fanfic. It is however, the fastest I've gone from knowing nothing about an anime/manga (I started watching yesterday) to writing a story. That being said, you'll have to excuse me if this is a bit ooc, as Im just gettin' used to these lovely characters now.

This will ultimately be Sebastian/Ciel. If you do not like this, then… I don't really care. Rating may go up or down depending on whether Im feelin' horny or not…

**Terms of a contract.**

It began with an ending. Or what should have been one.

Ciel's enemies had been destroyed, swept away by torrents of fire, half of London had been doused in blood and set alight; he'd dragged hell out, and uprooted he'd brought it to the fiends responsible for all his suffering, all the while standing stoic at the eye of the storm until all that was left was the crunch of charred bones, mingled with the stench of burning hair, all mirrored in the crimson of Sebastian's eyes.

Often he'd wondered what it would all be like once it was finished, whether there would be some sense of completion or even satisfaction, despite the fact that what was most important to him was that his enemies suffered the same humiliation, the same pain and terror that he himself would never acknowledge having felt. But now, his earlier notions seemed childish to him. He felt nothing for the disembowelled corpses that Sebastian had laid out, like a floral arrangement for him. There was a hole in the pit of his stomach that set his skin on edge as he met Sebastian's eyes. The butler was on his knees before him, bowing perhaps for the very last time, an easy smile playing on his lips.

For a moment, there was silence, while Ciel's mind assaulted him with images of what would never be. Each of his servants' clumsy smiles, the sprightly gold curls that framed Elizabeth's face, that infernal dog, and Sebastian's slight scowl as he tried to get gigantic muddy paw-prints out of the Persian rug in the study, afternoon tea with a different kind of cake or pastry every time. He thought of the demise of his household, his mansion in ruins, his townhouse bought by some sketchy noble, his name forgotten.

He didn't even need to go as far as to ponder the thought of an eternity alone. The mere prospect of losing everything again was enough to drive the young Earl, head of the Phantomhive Estate to an act most unbefitting of a nobleman, but exactly what was suitable for a frightened child: He ran.

Sebastian watched him go, eyes wide. He felt a slight apprehension for the actions of the young master, for a boy whom he considered wise beyond his flawed humanity, who approached every task as if his success was guaranteed. Was this the same child who would rather die than see the rules of a game changed half-way? Regardless, he couldn't help a small smile at the fact that the young Earl could still surprise him. Still, the boy had to know that Sebastian would find him; after all, if the butler of the Phantomhive family couldn't find his master, he wouldn't be worthy of his station. And he just couldn't have that, right? Besides, the young master clearly had to be reminded of the terms of his contract. He set off at a leisurely pace in the direction where the other had run off.

Ciel was running for his life. But that didn't mean he knew where he was going. His town house was too blatantly obvious, his country mansion too far away, most of London was still on fire-

Except apparently for _that_ place. He stopped outside the doorway of a grim, suspiciously un-burnt building, and out of habit composed his clothes and steadied his breathing before entering.

"Ah, young Phantomhive, what brings you here?" the odd lilting voice of the Undertaker, as well as his crooked grin made Ciel wonder if this was a good idea after all.

"I need-"

"A place to hide of course." Just because Ciel didn't show his surprise didn't mean it wasn't there as he turned to glare at the owner of that voice. Grell, the red-haired shinigami was at the door, smiling and giving the air a playful snippet with his shinigami safety scissors. He leaned close to the Undertaker and stated in a conspirational stage whisper, "He's running away from spending a debauched eternity in chains servicing Sebas-chan. How utterly unfair. Does he not know what some of us would give to-"

The Undertaker's laugh resonated through the room. "Well then, we better hide him."

Ciel's face blushed half in anger at being interrupted, then ignored, and half in mortification at the shinigami's perverted streak. He opened his mouth to protest, but instead felt Grell's quick hands taking his cloak and hat, and pushing him backwards before closing a door on him. It took Ciel seconds to realise he'd been shoved inside a coffin. Tasteless _and_ rude.

"Stay there. Sebas-chan is just down the street, walking this way." Grell's amused tone was not missed by Ciel, and neither was the undertaker's breathy laughter. His pride demanded he walk out, call Sebastian and tell him to end their wretched lives for their insult to his name. Instead, he remained quiet and tried to remind himself that calling Sebastian whilst hiding from Sebastian was not a good idea. He was sure anyways that now that his task was completed, his butler had no allegiance to him.

Sebastian knew that the young master was nearby. The bond they shared through the contract allowed him to sense his location, but he would have headed towards the Undertaker's shop even if he had had no means of tracking him down. Ciel Phantomhive was not the most sociable Earl, and his number of non-business contacts was highly limited. He would expect Sebastian to check his home, and he would never endanger Elizabeth by luring a demon into her household. Sebastian's eyes clouded for a moment, and he stopped at the doorway. He could hear the undertaker's voice from inside.

"…business has been bad lately, what with aaaaall the paper wealth burning away with the city… and of course, plenty are dead, but nobody's buying coffins, because the pretty corpses are ashen, and they crumble easily, so people can just put them in little jugs or teeny-tiny cardboard boxes…"

The Undertaker was crazy enough to talk to himself, but the outline of a second figure, bent over fine china drew his attention. In a span of seconds, Sebastian recognised the Earl's hat and cloaked form, crossed the room at inhuman speed and placing his hand on the other's shoulder, pulled him back. He'd been expecting resistance, which in his opinion completely justified the fact that he lost his balance and tumbled back ungracefully, causing the other one to fall on top of him, and the Undertaker to erupt in a fit of giggles.

Something was wrong. The weight above him ground itself deliciously against him, and Sebastian bit his lip to keep a decidedly improper sound from escaping his lips as he looked up to meet the heated gaze of… Grell?


	2. Chapter 2

"Aw, Sebas-chan! You're so forceful!" Grell moaned, his face contorted into a depraved smirk, his eyes shut tight as he reversed their positions, dragging a struggling Sebastian on top of him. The Undertaker was silent as he followed their every movement, his whole face turning from one to the other with uncharacteristic interest.

Less than a second's hesitation on the butler's part had given Grell the upper hand in his endeavour to undress him, but Sebastian decided he'd had enough when the shinigami's tongue began to trail a vagrant descent across his body. Shaking off the red-head gracefully, he proceeded to button up his clothes, leaving the other one a tangled mess of limbs on the floor. As if the entire incident had never occurred, he made sure his perfectly fake smile was in place before turning to the Undertaker with a small bow.

"I've come to collect the young master." Despite the smile, there was a small strain in Sebastian's voice.

"Ah, yes. Of course. Young master. Now where did I put him?" The Undertaker's stalling techniques as he riffled through drawers that were much too small to hold even the short Phantomhive was beginning to grate on Sebastian's nerves.

"Perhaps in there? Or there? Or here?" As the Undertaker spoke, he gestured to a series of coffins, each one containing a sight more gruesome than the next. Sebastian's nose wrinkled in distaste at the smell of decay of a badly embalmed woman, whose grey tinted skin contrasted sharply with the tasteless pink ribbons and frills she was wearing. For a moment, he was reminded of the bonnet Elizabeth had presented him with, which common courtesy and his contract had forced him to wear.

"Want to see what's in this one?" Came that sing-song voice, as the Undertaker lovingly ran his hands across the dark wood of a coffin. Inside, Ciel's eyes widened and his breath hitched. He knew that staying in the coffin forever was unreasonable, undignified even. And Ciel Phantomhive was never the type to run away. He instilled that fear in others, so that they fled from _him_; best defence and all. However, he knew he wasn't ready to give his soul up. He had thought, before it was all over, that with his past destroyed and no prospect of a future, he might welcome oblivion and his deserved punishment, but the simple truth was, he'd gotten used to a position of power and he didn't want to let it go. He sighed as he heard a creak in the hinges of the coffin. Ciel braced himself. He didn't know what was more humiliating, the fact that he'd run away, or that he was about to be found hiding inside a coffin at the Undertaker's place.

"Ah, I wouldn't if I were you," Grell was breathing heavily as he hurried to stand between Sebastian and the coffin. He shot a pointed look at the Undertaker. "That's old Mrs Winstrom. Undertaker here was just telling me about her. Messy end. Entrails everywhere. I convinced him to preserve her just as she died – a lady in red."

Sebastian was fighting against the urge to drop his carefully crafted smile. Even if he had an eternity of freedom to look forward to, really, he felt that any amount of time spent with those two idiots was too much. The scent of death and embalming fluid was offending his nose.

"I'll wait outside." The front door was the only exit, and after all, he had all the time in the world.

As soon as the door had shut behind him, Sebastian closed his eyes. He needed a minute to collect himself. His mind was disparaging his situation, a calculated attack on all sides. Had he wanted to, he could have taken the young master's soul as soon as the contract was fulfilled, but instead, he'd let him run. He'd then attributed it to some form of demonic sadism, and he told himself he wanted the thrill of the chase to prolong the pleasure of the sweet instant when the headstrong Phantomhive would belong exclusively to him.

Then everything had been ruined. His beliefs had been thrown into disarray, like a collapsing house of cards, from the time he'd walked into the Undertaker's. For a moment, the figure in his arms had been the young Phantomhive, spoiled only by the small nuisance of it actually being Grell in his master's hat and cloak. Still, he couldn't help but mark the way his heart had drummed irregularly as he'd taken in the fragrant scent which clung to those clothes. The mixture of flowers and spices he himself had picked out every night for nearly three years as he reverently bathed the young master.

There had been other signs. Good malevolent spawn from hell weren't supposed to enjoy serving others tea and cakes. They weren't meant to start the day extra early in order to think up ways to improve on confectionary, cook, clean. Again, his justification had been that he wanted to excel at whatever he did, the way he usually did. And the job did have other perks: stomping on people, fighting, disembowelling, but that didn't explain the enjoyment he derived from the other menial tasks. He sighed. The blood red sun was setting over an equally grisly London. Looking at his silver pocket watch, he surmised that he'd been brooding for nearly three hours. How unseemly. Really, that would not do.

Inside, the Undertaker was peeking out of a window, hidden by a film of dust. "He hasn't moved for a long time. I wonder if he's camping out there…" The Undertaker's amusement angered Ciel, who had been out of the coffin for as long as Sebastian had been out of the room. Still, he was unsure as to how he should proceed. He didn't know whether to be glad or not when the choice was taken out of his hands as Sebastian stalked into the room. The only thing he could do was to quickly and badly hide himself behind the Undertaker's desk.

Sebastian however, didn't even try to look for him. He made straight for Grell, and looking him straight in the eyes he spoke.

"I'll kiss you once, with tongue, if you give him to me."

"Sorry kiddo." It didn't take Grell even half a second to betray Ciel as he opened his arms slightly, beckoning the other closer, and Sebastian obliged, invading his personal space. One gloved hand fisted around the shinigami's crimson hair, pulling him slightly for better access, and elicited a surprised groan from the rough handling. However, when their lips met it was with unprecedented softness, each caress building from an almost insubstantial touch, materialised from nothingness and all too soon disappearing back into the ether, leaving Grell gasping, desperate for more contact. His voice was shaking slightly as Sebastian shoved him against the wall, but he still managed to drawl out in a wanton inflection, "T-tongue."

Sebastian smiled, inches from Grell's face as he bent down to lick the corner of the shinigami's mouth, in one broad, languid stroke. He was about to claim the other's lips once again when he was dragged back, and too suddenly found himself facing the disgruntled face of his master. His blue eyes were electric, irate, and there the hint of colour on his cheeks. He was trembling, though whether from rage or fear was not apparent. "We need to talk." And with this, Ciel walked out without glancing back.

Once again Sebastian found himself staring at the Earl's retreating back, though this time, his eyes sparkled mischievously, and his face was adorned with an almost authentic smile. 'Yes, master. We do indeed,' was his final thought as he followed the child into the night.

---

**AN:** Damn, I was so close to turning that into a kinky threesome (with Ciel voyeur-ing from the coffin)… but I reaaaaally wanna get to the Sebastian/Ciel… so let's just all take a moment to ponder how extremely delicious Sebastian/Undertaker/Grell would be… …and now it's gone. If I'm not feelin' too lazy, I might write that. I think that it would make a great explicit one shot…


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: **Lovedward48, many thanks for pointing out the typo. I considered leaving it as a small monument to my occasional clumsiness/stupidity and lack of beta and spell-check, but in the end, my weird fetish for correct spelling and grammar won out, and so it was changed. Nevertheless, it's not often that I make myself laugh, and that was just funny. If anybody picks up any typos, funny or otherwise, it would be much appreciated if they could be pointed out.

---

As soon as the door had closed, Grell sank onto the floor with a sigh. Covering his face with his hand, he tried hard not to think of just how quickly and readily Sebastian had left. The shinigami's petty, and often childish nature was flaring up, embedded with bright streaks of jealousy, so much so that he hung his head in a futile attempt to banish those thoughts. '_I'm such an idiot…_' The harsh squeak of floorboards drew Grell's attention, and as he looked up, he found the Undertaker looking down on him.

"The floor is no place for a lady." It was slightly disconcerting to have that manic grin hanging over him, so Grell accepted the other's outstretched hand and stood up. Neither man said anything for a while, the silence stretching well past the boundaries of comfort, unbroken, save for the small, sharp intake of breath from Grell when he felt one of the Undertaker's long finger's begin trace his jaw line, the obsidian nail leaving a small red scratch in its wake.

The Undertaker's head tilted slightly, causing his hat to shuffle sideways, but it miraculously remained on his head. He looked at Grell the way one might a lab rat, before allowing himself to ask a single question.

"But, was it worth it?"

Grell made no move to reply, but instead winked and simply allowed his usual pointed smile to invade his features. The change was instantaneous, and the Undertaker's shoulders shook with silent laughter. The shinigami didn't know whether he should be insulted or not. That man really had the weirdest sense of humour, so Grell crossed his arms and settled for an annoyed pout, all the while weighing up the pros and cons of waiting until the Undertaker was asleep and using his tiny shinigami scissors to snip the other man's bangs off.

---

Ciel was attempting to maintain some semblance of control. Fury was too lenient a word to describe the complex rainbow of emotions he felt besieging him on all sides. Wherever he was, Sebastian could find him; the contract itself ensured that was so. Therefore, Sebastian _had_ to know where he was. And if that was true, then doing… _that_ was unnecessary. Unless he'd actually _wanted_ to do it_._ He screwed his eyes shut, willing the memory away, though it appeared to be seared into the back of his eyelids.

Sebastian was toying with him. He had to be. He hadn't taken his soul, he'd let him run, he'd fooled around with a man while Ciel was hiding in a corner, fearing for his life. The urge to shout was overwhelming, but Ciel swallowed it and continued walking. Sebastian's long stride was a half step behind him, in his usual subservient position. Ciel couldn't see his face without actually turning, but he was damned if he was going to give the other man the satisfaction of acknowledging his existence. 'Young master' was what he'd called him, as if nothing had changed, but to Ciel it felt like a vaguely veiled mockery. He'd gone from king to pawn, the game spiralling out of his control. He knew that the rules couldn't be changed, but a pawn reaching the end of the board could climb up the ranks to become anything, anything at all. And if, for whatever reason Sebastian was electing to leave his soul with him for the moment, Ciel would make full use of the time he was given. One step at a time he would cross the vast expanse laid out before him, and _he would come out on top._

Sebastian walked silently behind his master, half wondering if Eurydice had felt that way, rescued from the underworld by her beloved, yet unable to look or be looked at by him. He smiled softly, playing with the idea that the young Earl had not rescued a beautiful maiden, but taken in a demon who dragged the shades behind his every step, making escape from hell impossible. There really was no way for this to end well.

He couldn't see his face, but the young master's shoulders were tense, and he seemed distracted. He missed the turning which led into the Phantomhive townhouse, and then recoiled violently as Sebastian placed a hand on his shoulder to steer him in the right direction.

Once inside the slightly charred brickwork of the building (Sebastian was beginning to wonder if he'd gone a little too far in his annihilation of the Phantomhive's enemies, and made a mental note to have the house repaired and the garden replanted), the master turned and looked at him expectantly. Cerulean eyes blazed with the life and defiance that Sebastian continued to hesitate to extinguish. The demon understood the silent demand from those eyes, but had no idea how to respond. He had no explanation, at least not one he cared to divulge: one of the most unacceptable things for a butler, so he decided to make up for it by taking care of something else. Looking critically at Ciel Phantomhive, he made his assessment.

"The young master is incredibly dusty. I will run a bath."

Ciel wanted to be angry at the obvious dismissal of his enquiry, but he'd already resolved that he'd much rather pretend nothing was wrong than have his soul taken away. Besides, after a day in a dank, filthy coffin, a bath seemed like a great idea. He followed his butler into the bathroom, and busied himself with taking off his clothes as the other filled the tub with bubbles and spices. It was a well known, comforting routine, and he gratefully sank into it as much as into the hot soapy water.

Relaxation washed over him as he submerged his head under the water. He felt Sebastian begin to wash his hair, and was instantly stuck by the memory of those same fingers, pulling the shinigami close, breathing against the other's neck. An odd feeling came over Ciel at the memory of Sebastian's smile back then, warmth tugging at his lower stomach. The heir to the Phantomhive estate was no stranger to another's arousal, having often had to bear it as the china man Lau pressed himself against him in bone-crushing hugs at inappropriate times. He'd never spoken of it, because his aunt had always been present, but Sebastian had always been there to haul the creepy man off him. However to find that feeling, that _weakness_ in himself was unacceptable, and most unwelcome.

"Sebastian."

"Yes, my lord?"

"I want the blue silk night shirt. Go get it." Ciel was partially testing the boundaries of what his butler would obey, as he wasn't obliged to do so any more, but mostly, he just wanted him to leave. He bit his lip, hell bent on ignoring the issue. Of all the shameful, disgraceful, reprehensible, humiliating-

"Young master." Damned quick butler and his inhuman efficiency.

Sebastian laid out the clothes on one side and continued washing the Earl from where he'd left off. Ciel was acutely aware of how exposed he was as Sebastian lifted one of his legs and began washing it, running his slim fingers across his calf, and between his toes. The only barrier between his… _problem_ and the butler was the layer of bubbles, rapidly disappearing as the water cooled. He fought not to squirm as the other's hands travelled higher, but could not suppress a groan as they brushed his inner thigh.

Realisation widened the butler's eyes, even as a mortified Ciel attempted to reach for his clothes, run away, and possibly then go jump off the nearest cliff. However, Sebastian was faster and held him in place by the shoulders. At first Ciel refused to make eye contact, but the low, desperate tone in the demon's voice made his head snap up immediately. The butler was not looking at him.

"Master, give me an order. Tell me what to do."

---

**AN2: **Not meaning to patronise anybody who knows their Greek myths, but for those who don't, the story goes as follows: Orpheus's lovely wife Eurydice died, leaving him sulking, and playing music so beautiful that he became the only mortal to ever elicit the absolute pity of the Gods. Hades allowed him to take back his love, so long as he allowed her to walk behind him and didn't look back until they were safely out of the underworld. However, the foolish man either couldn't resist, or wanted to make sure that Hades hadn't just _said_ that she was following to get rid of him, so he turned to make sure that she was really there. She was, but sadly as he had looked, she went bye-bye, forever beyond his reach. Lovely, no?


	4. Chapter 4

Ciel blinked. As seconds were drawn out by the long silence hanging between them, he could not help but blink again, dazed. He was certain that confusion, and something not unlike panic must be stamped across his features, and he made up his mind to be rightfully angered at his inappropriate conduct as soon as his brain decided to recover from severe shock and start working again.

The slightest gaze from the other man sent sparks trembling down his small frame, his skin was flushed, in fact, he was quite sure he must be a rather pathetic sight. It really was unfair, he mused, that Sebastian had laid all choice, and therefore all responsibility on him: a thirteen year old who had absolutely no idea what to do, and whose pride did not allow him to admit to even that.

"Hand me that towel." It was a start, so Sebastian obliged without hesitation. His eyes could have burned holes into the figure of the boy as they traced every movement, every minuscule twitch as he stepped out of the tub, wrapping the towel tightly about himself. The young Earl had never been this conscious of his butler's presence. Sebastian could tell by the way Ciel's fingers tightened around the fluffy white fabric, making him want nothing more than to let his arms slip around the boy's shoulders in a soothing gesture, and have them slowly trail downwards, exposing the boy's barely covered skin as he went. Sure, the desire was there, but so were about a hundred other feelings, like the numerous shades of grey cast by one flickering candle. And he wasn't sure how he felt about feeling them.

Fighting the urge to groan in frustration, and deciding he'd definitely spent too much time living amongst humans, Sebastian suddenly noticed his master had been moving, and of course he had been following, in true moth-to-flame style. They crossed the threshold into Ciel's room, and the boy abruptly turned to face him. Even though Sebastian was used to trailing behind, he was still caught unaware and quickly raised his head, hoping his master had not noticed exactly _where_ he'd been staring.

The room was dark, save for the marble fireplace which cast an orange glow on the dark wood floorboards that smelled faintly of beeswax, and the Persian rug that covered them. Ciel's eyes met his decisively, and the boy spoke, his tone rather haughty, almost daring Sebastian to defy him.

"I'm going to sleep."

Half a beat and then: "But of course." If he'd been expecting any resistance on the butler's part, the young Phantomhive did not show it, drawing a mischievous smile from Sebastian. "Allow me to dress you."

Ciel was instantly on guard again, and as usual, about a second too late. The butler had relieved him of his towel, and was letting his eyes wander. Ciel felt an unwanted blush send heat surging through his body, but by the time he'd opened his mouth to let out a flustered objection, Sebastian had already turned away and was busy rummaging through a large chest of drawers, leaving Ciel to wonder whether the demon had ever actually been staring at all.

Sebastian selected a loose white shirt that buttoned up at the front, and with slow, reverent gestures draped it around the boy's shoulder blades. He was thankful that he'd removed his gloves earlier to bathe the young Earl, and could now feel him, skin to skin, shiver slightly at every touch. Sebastian leaned close as he buttoned his way slowly down, loving the small sound of the hitch in Ciel's breath as he knelt before him in order to reach the lower buttons. The boy had done an excellent job of controlling his arousal up until now, considering his inexperience and young age. Sebastian was impressed. However, he could feel the slight tremors in his foundations, small cracks appearing around his composure, as the butler's face, strayed inches from where they both wanted it to be. Ciel could not suppress a moan when he felt the ghost of an exhalation on him, his knees giving way slightly, and causing him to sink ungracefully onto the bed.

And then Sebastian was on top of him as if he belonged there, his weight pressing down on all the right places, and his mouth at Ciel's throat, earning a quiet hiss from him as he raked his hands through the butler's ebony tresses, unsure whether to hold him closer or pull him away altogether.

Sebastian's heart was beating painfully against his chest, an erratic rhythm, that mirrored Ciel's ragged breathing. He didn't know why he was doing this, except that there was nothing in the world he wanted more. The strong willed boy that had sold his soul to a demon, and lived through insurmountable horrors had nevertheless retained a purity that a monster such as him had no right to touch. Every caress served to taint the child to darkness: a dark stain across pure white that marked him solely as his. Sebastian shivered. But as he leaned his forehead against Ciel's, he noticed the boy stiffening.

"GET AWAY! Get away from me!"

It was hardly the authoritative command Sebastian was accustomed to receiving, but he nevertheless responded with habitual promptness. Ciel barely had time to shut his mouth after that outburst before Sebastian had crossed the room, and stood at the doorway, fixing him with an odd look he'd never seen the butler wear before. Again, this lasted no more than a second before it morphed into his customary smile. That unconsolable, radiant smile that didn't even try to reach his eyes. Ciel found it painful to watch, and Sebastian seemed to know that too, as he quickly turned, allowing an expected, "Sleep well" to leave his lips with only the smallest difficulty. He walked out, leaving Ciel alone in the dark.

---

**AN:** Um, does this still count as rated T? I used no bad language at all whatsoever, and it's not nearly as low as I'm willing to sink, therefore I think so… I'd let my children read this. (It's probably for the best that I have no children…*cough*)

I think that's the most fun I've ever written whilst actually having them add _more_ clothes_._ Ha.

Endless thanks to Kei-chan for agreeing to Beta and putting up with my equally endless technological blunders.


	5. Chapter 5

When the sun began its slow crawl past the horizon, Ciel had been awake for what seemed like a lifetime. His butler's final words, like a curse had chased away any sleep that might have come to him anytime during the last week, and to steer clear of further embarrassing indiscretions, Ciel had opted to dress himself, rising incredibly early in an effort to avoid having the other walk in on him.

He struggled to keep memories of that night at bay, as he donned his clothes, not liking the substantial number of thoughts regarding his butler that had taken residence in his mind lately. But it was to be expected, he reasoned with himself as he eyed a silk cravat uncertainly, because not only had Sebastian been acting strangely unlike himself, but in destroying his enemies and putting an end to all the hatred, he'd left Ciel feeling utterly empty. He had nothing now, his life extended beyond purpose on that demon's whim, and that sense of idleness had brought his attention tenfold to the butler.

There was a knock on the door, and Sebastian announced his presence. Quite literally, speak of the devil. Ciel took a deep breath. He wanted to put an end to the confusion and the awkwardness that he felt when he looked at the other man. He vaguely remembered that back at the Undertaker's, he'd practically screamed 'We need to talk' at him, and somehow, he had skilfully avoided the subject by raising a whole load of more issues. If Ciel tried to broach the subject now, he wasn't sure where he would begin.

Sebastian entered, carrying an ornate silver tray, containing tea and a platter of assorted French pastries. The first morning, he had looked slightly thrown off by the sight of his master already up and dressed, but accustomed now he proceeded to hand the young Earl a cup of tea, and then to tie the cravat, which Ciel had been making an awful mess of, into a graceful bow. It felt half like a collar, half like a noose, and it prompted Ciel to speak.

"Sebas-"

"I'm sorry to interrupt, but the young master has an extremely busy day today. I shall leave you to finish your breakfast."

"Seb-"

"If memory serves me correctly, today is the day in which the young master must attend the annual gathering at the saloon of the British residence of the French ambassadors; an event imperative to all leading nobles of the British Empire, necessary to strengthen the already tenuous alliance between both countries, which the young master agreed to partake in months in advance."

The mere mention of that was enough to draw an anguished groan from Ciel, who held a distinct loathing for public functions of every sort. When he'd agreed to go, he'd been so close to achieving his goals, and the event had seemed so far in the distant future, that he'd half expected to be dead by then. It seemed like another thing to blame on the butler.

"Fine," he relented, "But you will handle the tedious business talk."

"I'm afraid, young master, that I cannot accompany you on this particular occasion. I have arranged to have a landscape gardener and a carpenter arrive today to fix-"

"It's not up for discussion." Ciel was getting annoyed now, colour rising in his cheeks. "I order you to come!" Sebastian held the boy's gaze a moment longer than was necessary, trying to ascertain if he was aware of the connotations of that particular faux pas. Ciel seemed oblivious to it, and Sebastian wondered if he was thinking too much.

"I'm sorry, young master, but there really is too much for me to do here. Our carriages have been damaged by the fire, but I shall arrange for your transport and collection from the mansion. Please excuse me."

"Sebas-"

The butler bent down slightly, so he was at eye level with Ciel, his eyes cold. "If you recall, I'm no longer obliged to cater to your every wish."

"Fine." The angry murmur was barely audible as Ciel walked out, slamming the door behind him.

---

"Is this what he calls _transport?!_"

Outside the aged, rusted gate of his property, Ciel was fuming, pacing from side to side. For a while, the soft crunch of his polished shoes on the cobblestones was the only noise, their rhythm broken only by erratic bursts of angry muttering. Ciel stopped only long enough to turn a malicious eye towards what was, he told himself, the source of _all_ of his irritation.

Transport it certainly was, the dark wheels of the polished black carriage could attest to that. It was drawn by a pair of regal thoroughbreds, their colouring reminiscent of the darkest pools of ink, giving an impression of depth as well as a glossy blue sheen. Long legged, with extremely intelligent eyes, the horses were giving Ciel a look that was making him uncomfortable, but that was only the pin-sized tip of an enormous ice berg of issues Ciel had at the moment.

No matter how you looked at it… it was definitely a hearse. More importantly, there was a coffin inside it, a procession of the softly wailing bereaved following, and the malevolent grins of both Grell and the Undertaker were beaming down at him from the driver's seat. He felt a headache coming on.

Reluctantly, he allowed Grell to help him up to sit besides them. The driver's seat was purpose built to uncomfortably fit two people. Three proved to be a bit of a stretch, and Ciel soon found himself half on Grell's lap half on the Undertaker's. Not a place he wanted to be. Ever. Silently cursing Sebastian, because this was most definitely an undignified way to show up to any place, let alone to a noble man's party, Ciel tried to wish himself out of existence, but was interrupted by Grell's silky voice, whispered straight into his ear.

"Well, we've got a long journey ahead of ourselves, with just one quick delivery to make before we drop off Cinderella at the ball, so kiddo, why don't you take your time, and give us a nice, explicit account of your 'conversation' with Sebas-chan? I've been dying to know."

Ciel tried to recoil, but the awkward position and his proximity caused him to collide against the Undertaker. He could feel a smile from the creepy man that seemed almost tangible, and cringed as he felt slivers of breath on the back of his neck. He sighed dejectedly, wishing that miserable day would end.

---

Inside the house, Sebastian stood, unmoving by the bay windows. He watched the carriage leave, exhibiting all the expression of a marble statue. It was simple enough, he reasoned, to display no emotion, if none was present. He had none at the moment, his desire stumbling after the hearse until both were out of sight. Out of mind. He wished to follow, but he didn't know what could possibly come from such nonsense.

"You've really become a dog, huh? Obedient to the end. Past the end, really." The voicing of his thoughts came from a distance somewhat behind him. Sebastian turned elegantly, to make up for the fact that he had not sensed the other's presence. Even before he'd laid eyes on him, he knew whom he was speaking to.

"Shinigami."

"Demon," William was unfazed as Sebastian fixed him with his politest, deadliest smile. "We need to talk."

Sebastian bowed to hide his scowl. He'd been hearing that phrase rather too much lately.

---


	6. Chapter 6

Ciel's mood had not improved as he and Grell were led through a set of polished oak double doors. He grimaced at the judgmental sideways look that the servants directed at the shinigami, who, insufferable since they'd arrived, was grabbing every object he could lay his hands on and inquiring loudly as to its purpose. The puerile delight that the red-head was exhibiting might have been endearing to a more tolerant person, but his sharp smile and mischievous eyes sent warning signals coursing through Ciel's body. "I still don't see why you have to accompany me."

"Well, as a reward for my flawlessly attentive babysitting, Sebas-chan promised me something that I just couldn't refuse." The suggestive tone was broken with a loud crashing noise, and Grell at least had the decency to look somewhat sheepish as the object he'd been holding, which Ciel recognized as an expensive, one-of-a-kind stained glass designer lamp, shattered into a thousand pieces. However, Ciel couldn't care less about the furniture or the startled faces of a couple of maids as Grell handed them the biggest piece of the lamp and hoped his charming smile would make it better. Ciel felt a scowl darkening his face, surprised at the strength of his desire to know exactly what his butler had promised the shinigami. His pride however, refused to let him concede caring about Sebastian even to this small extent, and he stood there in a strange, indecisive limbo, wanting to grab Grell by the collar and demand he spill every word that he'd exchanged with _his_ butler, without _his_ consent, but knowing that that conversation would surely reveal something to the shinigami which Ciel wasn't sure he wanted to admit even to himself. A nasty thought used that time to remind him that his butler wasn't really his anymore.

Grell continued to talk, deciding to gloss over that whole incident, turned his attention to any other knick-knack that he could find in that gaudy upper-class mansion, managing to break, tear or stain everything over a certain price-range. The young Earl had looked flustered since he'd mentioned Sebas-chan. Grell smirked. It was a personal talent of his that he could make anything sound like a sexual favor, even if in reality, the butler had only promised not to force-feed him his own intestines if he agreed to look after Ciel. It was a small step up from Sebas-chan's usual indifference to him, and he felt a vague hope that he could work upwards from there.

"Look at it this way," Grell began when he noticed the pained look was not leaving the boy's face. "Would you rather I accompany you, or the Undertaker? Think about it carefully, and consider both how badly he deals with the living, and how good I look in a dress. It's not too late, you know? I can still get changed."

Ciel ignored him, noticing they were attracting a lot of attention, and they hadn't even arrived at the lounge where the gathering was being held, where most of the guests were. Since Grell appeared to be adamant in his following of him, the young Earl resigned himself to blushing lightly in embarrassment, hell-bent on denying all associations with the other man if asked, and hoping that Grell's brutal lack of etiquette might not put him through too much shame.

---

"Please forgive me if I don't offer you anything to drink, but I'm rather busy at the moment." As if to prove his point, Sebastian spent a whole minute staring at nothing in particular.

William glared. "Not a problem. Considering your… lineage, I think it's fair to say that I didn't expect much to begin with."

They circled each other like feral cats, bristling at the barely veiled insults they directed at one another through a haze of smiles and polite inflections. If anybody could hear only their tones, they might think they were having a pleasant if mundane conversation regarding, say, the weather.

"So, what could be so important that a high level shinigami feels the need to get off his high-horse and pay a visit to what he considers to be the filthy scum of the earth?" Sebastian's disarming smile contrasting with his sudden blatant speech prompted William, in an attempt to be the bigger person, to assume his most business-like tone before proceeding.

"As you know, we shinigami pride ourselves in remaining neutral, in order to maintain a necessary balance in the ratios of death, whether natural, or caused by mortals, angels or demons. If the scales on either side are imbalanced, there would be a disruption of life that would lead to disaster, and so, shinigami are endowed with an inherent neutrality and perceptive understanding, and given power akin to gods-" He frowned. "Oh, don't look at me like that. Grell is… a mistake we're currently working hard to rectify."

Sebastian thought he'd caught sight of some movement from out the window. He was expecting the landscape gardener to arrive soon, to fix the fair-sized garden of the house that had been damaged along with most of London. There was also a chance that the young master had opted to return home when he found out that Grell had been instructed not just to drive him, but to attend the gathering with him. Sebastian wouldn't blame him if he had, and felt a small twinge of regret that he'd not been able to procure a person of a more tasteful disposition on such short notice.

Short notice indeed. The night had been meticulously planned months in advance. If Sebastian was truly honest with himself, he'd probably have to say that he'd been avoiding the young Phantomhive. He hadn't had a real conversation with him since, well, since _before_ Ciel had pushed him away, roughly one week, nineteen hours and twenty-two minutes ago. Before he'd discovered how right it felt to have that lithe body pinned beneath him. Straying into the same room as him for any amount of time, Sebastian found his control stretched to its limit, as he fought to restrain his demon side from violently taking what in his mind, he'd already claimed as his. He had to somehow put an end to all the foolishness. It was most unbecoming.

Irritation clouded his eyes, and he addressed William curtly. "And to what, precisely, do I owe this lecture in shinigami morals?"

William sighed, and spoke slowly. He hated having to repeat himself, so he was going to put this as simply as possible. "Your deal with the mortal, Ciel Phantomhive. You killed numerous people on his behalf, and his soul weighs heavy with the lives of others. If you do not exact payment, we will be forced to take action. Let me make this perfectly clear. If you do not take his soul, we will."


	7. Chapter 7

_Warning_: Some Grell x Ciel in this chapter, though I promise it won't happen again.

---

The party was in full swing, which naturally meant that Ciel was attempting to keep as much distance as possible between himself and the other guests. He was currently leaning against a large marble balcony that overlooked a courtyard, which boasted the full extent of the eighteenth century's splendour – well maintained grounds that gracefully encircled a hand-carved fountain, Italian style. Ciel found the brisk air and quiet hum of flowing water a pleasant contrast to the excessive chatter and dense perfumed air that drifted past the crystal of the French doors.

It had been highly disconcerting, the ease with which Grell had integrated himself into the upper echelons of society. He'd joined the crowds with a confidence that bordered on arrogance, and had quipped in on various conversations with charming witticisms that had left Ciel slack-jawed, until he'd realized that the shinigami did not fully understand the more subtle layers of meaning behind what he was saying. At one point, the redhead had been persuaded to sing, the string quartet accompanying him, earning appreciative whisperings at his tone; a deep, resonant baritone that caressed the mind like warm honey.

Ciel had the irrational urge to scream that the man was really a raving, cross-dressing psychopath with a chainsaw, but he'd been overwhelmed by waves of curious nobles wanting to enquire further as to the background and identity of the 'charming' stranger known only as the Earl of Phantomhive's guest for the evening. The crowd had taken what seemed like a lifetime to dissipate, but had eventually moved off, doubtless driven away by Ciel's polite but clipped words.

However, the irritation stirred in him by the laughter of individuals dressed even more exuberantly than Grell had been the least of his problems on that particular night.

Ciel had spent the evening making sure the shinigami, his supposed chaperone, didn't get too drunk, and avoiding Elizabeth like the plague. Earlier on, he'd been startled as the warmth of her small arms encircled him as she greeted him warmly, her voice thick with unadulterated love. She'd expressed both delight and surprise at finding him at a social gathering, precisely the kind of event he usually avoided. Always clingy, the girl had hung off him, introducing him as her 'cute fiancé' to anyone that cared to listen.

Ciel had felt a vein on his temples pulsating in annoyance, but he couldn't hate Elizabeth for it. He couldn't even dislike her. Elizabeth was Ciel's only remaining link to his family, having grown up alongside him. It had been his parent's decision that they should be married, and he'd never questioned that command. He'd never had a reason to.

But his parents were gone, and the dead weight beside him felt wrong, somehow. Well, things were …complicated now. He cared about Elizabeth greatly, but he still found himself wanting the arms that were wrapped lovingly around him to dissolve into the thick air wafting uncomfortably around him.

Beside him, a flash of black and a silver tray caught his eye. For a moment, his heart had leapt, and he visibly flinched as he saw white gloves, but the dark tailcoat belonged merely to one of the ambassador's servants, offering Lady Elizabeth a drink.

He repressed the urge to growl in frustration, anger, annoyance.

"Ciel, what's wrong?" Elizabeth's worried tone trailed behind him as he stormed off, but the girl, wisely, did not follow.

***

And so, a scowling Ciel had ended up on the isolated balcony, thinking too much.

_Sebastian_. The man never seemed to drift too far from Ciel's mind, and it kind of annoyed him. It was as if the imprint of their contract on his pupil demanded that the butler be within sight at all times, and he found himself tracing the imaginary contours of the other's body. Sebastian's graceful limbs, always impeccably covered by the tailored uniform Ciel had him wear. Sebastian's voice, which spoke subservient words with a dangerously controlling edge; Sebastian's smile, that fabricated, polite gesture that made Ciel's stomach tighten to an almost painful degree. He wanted to shatter that façade, to get an honest reaction from him for once.

And yet he wasn't sure that was even possible. Could a human ever arouse even a sliver of real emotion from a creature that might as well be the devil himself?

He knew that what he had nearly done with his butler a week prior was beyond improper – it had been plain foolish. He also knew that despite the fact that he had not willingly instigated it, he had been anything but an unwilling participant, that is, until he'd ended it all with a hasty order.

Telling Sebastian to back off had been hard, and that thought scared him. Even more so because his reasons for doing so were beginning to seem more tedious and if possible, all the more trite. He needed to-

"What's wrong, kiddo?" A drunken inflection bit into his thoughts. "Your fiancée is worried about you, you know? And it's cruel to make a lady worry."

Ciel hadn't noticed the broad crystal of the French doors swing open, nor the light, escaping into the night like bubbles of golden champagne, but the red-head's overbearing presence commanded his attention at once. At the mention of Elizabeth, Ciel's frown deepened.

Grell sauntered over, stumbling, and much too close for comfort. His tousled hair fell in gleaming strands that covered his eyes so that, for a moment, Ciel could only see the satisfied smirk and slight heat of a blush that covered his features.

The Earl of Phantomhive narrowed his eyes.

"I don't think I even want to know what you've been doing."

"C'mon, kid, lighten up. It's a party. But don't try to change the subject. Come and tell me all about your sexual frustrations." The words were only half serious, the tone light: Grell sounded pleasantly drunk, and there was a slight slur to his voice.

Ciel deliberated with himself for a moment. On the one hand, he couldn't trust the shinigami – rumours and gossip flowed freely from his mouth, even when his tongue wasn't loosened by alcohol. On the other, the red-head was swaying as if he were about to pass out any moment, and would likely not remember the conversation later on.

Ciel paused, taking a deep breath, and making certain his voice was steady. To speak his problems out loud, he felt, would make them terrifyingly real.

But Ciel had always spit in the face of fear, metaphorically of course, because his class and upbringing had raised him to consider actually spitting a filthy habit.

"I… want him."

Hating the hesitance in his own voice, young cerulean eyes glared defensively, as if daring the other to challenge his statement.

"Of course you do. Tell me something that wasn't blindingly obvious from the start." Grell leaned forwards slightly, resting his arms on the balcony's marble railing. Ciel was about to snap back an indignant retort, but Grell interrupted, his boisterous words cutting though the frigid London air.

"So you want to jump Sebas-chan? I don't blame you, but… won't your cute little fiancée have something to say about that?"

" Elizabeth 's unconditional love…" _Pales in comparison_, Ciel admitted to himself. He didn't want to say it, didn't want it to be true. If he could love Elizabeth, he'd face a socially accepted marriage to a woman of rank; have prospects of a family and the possibility of regaining lost happiness. But the boy with no future, whose soul was branded a demon's possession, didn't _want_ salvation. Ciel didn't care if the electric spark of desire he felt for his butler was merely the rush of carnal sin – platonic love and a stable relationship were inferior, weaker feelings.

"Don't want the _girl_, huh? Then let's experiment slightly." There was a mischievous twinkle infecting the alcohol-dulled gleam of Grell's eyes. "I was always curious about why Sebas-chan wanted _you_ of all people…"

Suddenly, Ciel didn't feel comfortable alone with that man. He took a hasty step back, as hurriedly as he could whilst making it seem natural, but the shinigami had already drawn up against him, throwing his arms around him, and pressing Ciel close.

"What would you feel," the lips that were bearing down on his ear reeked of liquor, whispering, almost mouthing the words against him, "if this mouth, these hands belonged to Sebas-chan?"

Instinctively, Ciel had shut his eyes, the red-head's words sending a shiver of almost violent intensity shaking his small frame. Vagrant hands wandered his body, slipping beneath the folds of his clothes, and making him struggle to keep his breathing even.

Those hands were heavier and clumsier than the demon's, but Ciel still felt a guilty rush of pleasure. With his eyes closed, he found he could almost lose himself in thoughts of smooth black, in the cavernous depths of crimson eyes.

He moaned, trying to keep hold of the fantasy. But Grell's caresses would never suffice.

Groaning slightly, Ciel tried to disentangle himself from the shinigami, but the man only pulled him closer, shoving him none too gently against the balcony. In the courtyard below, he could make out the silhouette of the Undertaker waiting patiently in the hearse, a fair distance from the other coachmen, who seemed to gravitate away from him.

Hissing, Ciel began to struggle in earnest. "Grell, stop it. It's illegal to flirt with men."

"Really?" Ignoring the fact that things had progressed beyond flirting, the shinigami stopped, sounding for once genuinely interested. The pause however, lasted only a heartbeat before he returned to nipping sharp kisses down Ciel's neck. "Says who?"

"Uh, the Queen." Ciel was having trouble focusing, and had to pronounce each syllable carefully. When Grell's hand hovered over his belt-buckle, Ciel's small hand grasped it, unsure of whether it was wise to let the shinigami continue.

"The Queen and what army?" And suddenly, Grell was back to being nothing more than a drunken fool.

"The Criminal Law Amendment Act, passed in 1885, is a law for the protection of minors that also condemns every kind of homosexuality." That small fact was expressed mechanically, automatically, as if it had been seared into Ciel's mind. He'd been exploring the issue from a multitude of angles lately, and it showed in how readily the words flowed from his lips.

Instead of commenting on that detail, however, Grell burst out laughing.

"A legal act against indecency towards minors which_ also _illegalizes homosexuality?" The shinigami released Ciel in order to clutch at his sides, a vain effort to control his drunken giggles. "Is there some member of parliament with a particular grudge against Sebas-chan?"

Ciel frowned.

"Don't take life so seriously, kiddo. Do you really think Sebas-chan would allow you to serve out even a half-day in prison?" The hyperactive redhead was having trouble standing, tilting at a precarious angle before steadying himself. "Come on, I'll take you home, where you can commit that particular crime three, maybe four times …but of course that depends on Sebas-chan's stamina, and you will naturally confess in explicit detail when I helpfully conduct a criminal interrogation on behalf of Scotland Yard tomorrow morning and-"

Glad of the darkness, which masked his embarrassment, Ciel half dragged the drunk down a marble flight of stairs, suited perfectly to the Georgian mansion, which led directly to the courtyard, and their ride. Neither man looked back: Ciel was in a hurry to escape the social gathering from hell and return to his demon butler; and Grell was too inebriated to lift his head.

Because of this, neither of them saw the wide eyes of a horrified Elizabeth, who had watched the entire scene from the glittering ballroom.

---

**AN:** I'm very sorry about the stupidly long delay. And about the chapter too. After taking this long to update, we're still not at the good bit… And there's some Grell x Ciel there too… unlikely, and possibly highly ooc, my only excuse is that Grell was drunk, Ciel is young, inexperienced and prone to making mistakes, the author is yaoi-starved, Sebastian's reaction is gonna be immensely fun to write, and despite the improbability of it, it fits quite well with what I have planned…

Regardless, this story is still Sebastian x Ciel, so I'll hereby promise no more inappropriate Grell action. That is, if you're still interested in reading it after all this time… *hangs head in shame*


	8. Chapter 8

**AN: **I know this is short, but it's better than months of absence. Updated early to commemorate the birthday of The Sorrowful Vampress.

Everybody do the polite, proper thing and sing happy birthday loudly and off key…

My gratitude goes to my beta, Kei-chan who's always prompt to reply, making all delays entirely my fault…

---

***

Static made the air simmer with tension as two figures locked gazes.

At first, they appeared to form a perfect tableau, opposing forces achieving a precarious balance, suspended almost out of time.

Upon closer inspection, one could discern the slightly rumpled look of the normally pristine uniform the butler wore, and the couple of hairs that fell out of place from his opponent's formerly neat hairstyle. Both were breathing hard, and yet their equally adamant pride forbade them from slacking their graceful, arrogant postures lest one should appear inferior in any way. A look of abject hatred had set Sebastian's eyes ablaze ever since the shinigami's words had reached his ears, enhancing the cruelty of his gaze to a level that was unequivocally inhuman.

William had expected it, to some extent, but had nevertheless been shocked by the intensity of his glare; unsettled by the complex range of emotion behind it – one he'd thought was beyond the scope of abilities of a monster on a leash.

Suddenly, and for the thousandth time that night, both broke the stillness by simultaneously lunging at each other, moving faster than it should be possible and clashing violently in the middle of the Phantomhive parlour. Instinctively, William took the offensive, extending his shinigami-scythe to viciously attempt to pierce and tear the other man's flesh.

Anger as extreme as the one that the demon was broadcasting often led to rash decisions, which tended to end up in dismemberment courtesy of a few well placed stabs from William's weapon, but the demon had level-headedly taken up a defensive stance and was skilfully weaving and ducking the blows. In an instant, a small sidestep allowed Sebastian to draw up behind him, giving William just enough time to register the vindictive little smile that graced the demon's countenance before he was sent flying across the room.

The shinigami's vision was blurred, both from the violent force with which his head met the wall and from his glasses clattering to the floor besides him. He could hear slow footsteps and make out the hazy outline of the demon slowly approaching him, a shadowy nightmare with gleaming red eyes. Frozen in place, and for once speechless, William felt a demonic aura grow insanely strong, its oppressive, powerful force centring on him and making him feel as if the gleaming steel of a cold knife were pressed against his heart, at the point of drawing blood.

Gloved hands, soft as black feathers grasped his throat and began building pressure which efficiently cut off William's air supply. His vision began to darken, and therefore, in an attempt to calm himself, he shut his eyes. Disgusted by his own relative weakness as much as by the touch of the beast in front of him, he could not help the small traitorous thought that pleaded for a miracle to allow him to leave with his life.

***

"Sebastian!"

The front door had been slammed open, and a girl's slightly hysterical, shrill cry echoed around the mansion.

Sebastian sighed, irritated, and quickly released the shinigami, who writhed on he floor, gasping. Casting a quick glance over the room – torn curtains and scattered furniture, the butler decided that he could not allow Lady Elizabeth – for it was indeed her voice – to look upon the disarray that their fight had created. However, he had to move quickly.

Luckily, when he had thrown the shinigami, he'd had the presence of mind to avoid hurling him at any of the expensive antique furniture, but the insufferable man had gone and left a rather unattractive bloodstain on the wallpaper. Not to mention that he was still carelessly sprawled on the floor.

Sebastian managed to cover up the stain by rearranging the room's furniture so that a high-backed chair was placed directly in front of it, cringing silently at how the blood would be impossible to get out later, once it had dried.

It could not be helped however: there was no time.

A window had been broken in the scuffle, and Sebastian decided for once to indulge his frustrations by widening the hole slightly as he carelessly tossed the half-conscious shinigami through it. There was always hope that the sharp glass would rupture an artery and the man would bleed to death in the garden. It would certainly be worth the clean up afterwards.

Seconds later Elizabeth walked in to the room and Sebastian welcomed her with a smile and a small bow. The girl looked like she had been crying, and Sebastian was about to politely enquire about it when she interrupted, looking over his shoulder.

"Uh, what happened to the window?"

"There was a minor… incident. Nothing to worry about, although perhaps you'd like to accompany me to another room. The night breeze is quite chilly…" He began leading her away, aware that a bloody shinigami-silhouette was currently stumbling out of the bushes. "Shall I prepare some tea?"

***

"So that's how it is." Elizabeth 's shoulders were shaking slightly as she clasped a porcelain teacup, head bowed.

Immobile, Sebastian calmly assessed the merit of different reactions. Logically, he believed he should investigate the matter further before resorting to any kind of extreme response, but despite the fact that shaking the girl and vehemently demanding more information was unreasonable and highly unbefitting for a high-class butler, it was still one of his preferred courses of action.

Giving up with a sigh and thinking that one day his repressions of his violent demonic tendencies would kill him, he dressed his face with a reassuring smile and tried to subtly fish for more information.

"And you're sure you couldn't hear what they were saying?"

"N-no. But I'm not sure I would want to…" her voice was shaking, "I don't know what's worse, the thought that he wanted that… _man's_ hands on him or that _that_ was being done to him against his will, and I-"

"I understand your preoccupations perfectly," the butler interrupted. "But it's late. The guest bedroom has been prepared; please use it and rest tonight. This evening must have been very trying for you. Rest assured, I will confront the young master and get to the bottom of things."

Elizabeth 's face softened into a pacified smile. "Thank you for doing this for me, Sebastian." She hugged him briefly, having to stand on the tips of her toes in order to place her arms around his neck. "You are such a good person."

As soon as her back was turned, Sebastian dropped his pretence, and let out a breath he hadn't even been aware of holding. His eyes gleamed darkly like red-tainted mirrors as he settled into the shadows to await his master's return.

***


End file.
